


A Faceless Man's Revenge

by Furyan56



Series: Game of thrones story [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25193083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Furyan56/pseuds/Furyan56
Summary: When a young girl is shipwrecked and found almost dead by the Black and White Temple she is raised up and trained to be a Faceless man. Years later finally getting her first real mission to prove herself a Faceless Man she is sent to Westeros to kill a man, but can she do the job is suppose to do, or will her memories come back and send her on a mission of revenge and hate. Or will she fall in love and give up being no one to find being someone.
Series: Game of thrones story [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1825042
Collections: Game of Thrones





	A Faceless Man's Revenge

NOTE: Just so all readers know the ages of these characters will be older than the books, but everything I write will follow closer to the books than the show. I also probably will not be completely accurate where things are and houses but I will try! And I changed how some things worked in the world of Game of Thrones but hope you like the changes.  
Chapter One: Lost Memories

Thunder boomed as lightning streaked across the sky. Waves crashed hard against the dock and wind boomed loudly as it blew violently. Rain and waves splashed roughly against a young girl that was laying in a heap on the dock unconscious. Her soaking jet black hair was long and plastered to her face. A man with a wrinkled old face that had seemed to have seen many many years was looking down at the young woman looking half dead laying there. The old man put his hands together that were covered by long sleeves of the long white robe he wore, the robes white hood pulled up to cover his face from the rain.   
‘Tsk Tsk Tsk’, the old man made the noise while shaking his head, “A poor girl the many face god has seemed to have taken you so young. You have received the gift of death.” The man bent down and brushed a black strand of hair from the girl’s face. Her face was blue and deathly, with all the appearance of having drowned. The man noticed broken ship debris that had washed up to shore in the storm and could tell what had happened and how the girl had come to be here. The storms had been fierce this year and even many of the best ships had fallen easy prey to the mighty waves.  
The man went to scoop up the body of the girl who looked to be only nine or ten and only wearing brown wool rags that were barely clinging to her body in shreds from the cruel waves. He went to slide his hands under her waist and shoulders to lift her, when the girl gave a violent cough and water shot from her mouth unto to the dock. Not much took the man by surprise, but an apparent dead body coughing made even him jump back slightly. But then a slight curve to the corners of his lips showed a barely noticeable smile, “Well young girl it appears the many faced god isn’t done with you yet.”  
The young girl had naturally rolled over to her side and was now heaving wildly trying to release all the water from her body onto the dock. The man just put a hand on her shoulder holding her in place waiting in the wild rains for her to stop. As the girl heaved her face slowly turned pale, but more lively looking than when he had found her.  
When the girl had stopped heaving she laid back on her back and silently passed out, but her breathing had become even and relaxed. The old man moved his wrinkled, brittle old hands under her and lifted her with such ease for how weak he looked. He carried her away from the docks up the rocky hill to the Black and White Temple of the Many Faced God.

The corridor was empty as the girl swept the old stone floors. No one had visited the temple this morning yet, and the girl was alright with that. Most of the time people came to be given the gift of death from Many Faced Gods and she had been hurting and bruised from the training yesterday and really didn’t want to do any of her work. Of course she would never tell anyone this or show it, because was her duty.  
The temple had been her home for seven years now, even though she was not supposed to call it that. The girl was no one and had no name. The girl had no home, and had no family. The girl was to be a Faceless Man. Since the day she was found out on the docks over by the rocky shore of the small island in Braavos where the Black and White Temple laid, she had done as the Faceless Men asked and trained fiercely. The man that had found her so many years ago told her The Many Faced God had saved her and brought her to them for a reason and she would be the god’s humble servant in return for her life. What else was a girl to do, but stay with the people who saved her and healed her from dying? That anyone could find the girl had been the only survivor of the ship wreck. The girl didn’t know if she believed fully all this Many Faced God stuff, but this was where she was and who she was now. The girl was no one, would always be no one and she was fine with that mainly because the girl really was no one. Everything from her past life was gone from her mind those many years ago in an apparent ship wreck she doesn’t remember. The girl for a full year of being in the temple tried so hard to remember, but finally the Faceless Men trained the need out of her and she gave up and was content with her life.  
The broom blew up some dust that made the girl wrinkle her nose trying to fight back a sneeze. Holding back the sneeze the girl suddenly heard a door off down the hallway make the smallest creak, but the girl perked up in alarm. There was no sound of approach and nothing to tell if anyone was behind her, but the girl gripped the broom stick with white knuckles. The only warning the girl got was the soft sound of a ‘whoosh’ as something flew through the air. The girl spun quickly to the side, as a knife barely brushed past her lightly tan face. The knife as it flew past slicing a sliver of her shoulder length red hair off and fell a little ways off with a clink sound hitting the ground. The girl quickly dashed through the closest doorway, hearing the sound of soft footsteps chasing her. She was leaping down a long flight of stone steps, three steps at a time. The stairway was only lightly lit and seemed to have no end winding further and further down through the temple. She quickly ducked into an alcove to the side of the stairwell. The footsteps had stopped a while back, but the girl knew the pursuit was not over and whoever was chasing her was trying to be silent as possible. There was the lightest sound of someone stepping down, that most people would have missed easily, but the girl heard and knew exactly where the person was. Without thought the girl jumped out and spun the broom violently in an arching motion towards the stranger. The broom made a loud, ‘CLACK’ as it connected with the attacker’s wooden staff they used to block the attack. The person that had been chasing her was another young lady with light brown hair that also reached down to only her shoulders, like her own. She looked to be about seventeen like her, but in this temple that meant nothing and she could be fifty and the girl would never know it. The broom and staff connected back and forth as the girl played the offensive pushing the other girl up the stairs, but it only lasted a little time and the other girl got the better of her with a bunch of wildly placed smacks of her staff that broke her broom in half. The girl gripped both halves of the broom and ducked under a swipe of the other girl’s staff that would have definitely knocked her out cold if it had connected with her head, and it was a long way down those stairs. The girl jumped back from another attack the girl’s staff and spun to the side quickly barely staying on her step. The move gave her the chance to swipe at the other girl’s side with the jaggedly sharp end of one of the broom halves she held. The other girl knocked back her hand with her staff and quickly took a shot at her legs trying to trip her up, but she jumped over the staff and away before she could counter to hit her in the stomach with the butt of the staff.  
The two of them went back and forth, both not getting the upper hand, the girl almost stabbing the other and the other girl almost knocking her out or tripping her down the stairs. The girls spun and leaped, and stabbed to the same tune almost like a dance. A violent, cruel, and deadly dance. Until finally an older man much taller and looked like he was in his middle years with bright blue hair on the left side of his face and the other side a bright purple in the style of the Tyroshi; appeared in the stairwell above the two girls.  
“Enough girls,” the man said calmly but with command. He walked down the stairs as the two girls laid their weapons against their sides and put their heads down meekly. The man took the broken broom halves from the girl, “This was a good broom you two destroyed.” The girls kept their heads down but showed no shame. This was not the first broom and probably would not be the last. In the temple you used what you have at the time whenever someone decided you were in need of some training. The girl was so close to being at the end of her training, she couldn’t wait for it to be over and she could end these small missions in Braavos to explore the rest of the world; to be a real Faceless Man. The man made a loud click noise from the back of his throat at the other girl and nodded over at her. The other girl nodded and walked back up the stairs without a word. The girl just looked him in the eyes and waited.  
“Who is this girl before me?” He asked.  
“No one,” the girl responded without emotion and a flat stare.  
“Is the girl a servant of the Many Faced God?”  
“Yes she is! She will follow wherever the Many Faced God wants her to go,” She hung her head down in show of being humble.  
The man looked at her a while and then lightly touched her bright red hair that hung to her shoulders, and then lifted her chin to look into her bright green eyes. When the man had found her so many years ago she had long, beautiful, soft jet black hair, and pale white skin, but her eyes were still the same bright green. Over the years of being at the temple she had had many faces, and been a boy and then a girl again. She had been old, and young. She had been blind, and deaf, and sometimes a beggar, sometimes a whore. Once she had gotten to be a noble woman, and a few times an orphaned boy, or an old wrinkle beggar man. But she almost always got to keep the eyes the same, and she loved the color of them. They were so bright they almost glowed in the dark; it made the girl feel like she was an animal hunting their prey down when she gave the gift of death to someone in the dark. Her eyes were one of the only and last things they saw before they received the gift. But sadly all her jobs were always in Braavos; never to be trusted to explore out in the world and do the bigger and more exciting jobs. The way the man was looking at her now she was hoping this was her time.  
“The girl will not be a girl anymore, you will be a boy. A young sailor boy taking up a job mopping the decks and whatever else the ship requires.” As the man spoke the girl’s heart sank, but her expressions never changed to show the disappointment; never to show emotion.  
“The boy with be travelling to Westeros on this ship where the boy will find and become someone else.” The girl’s heart raised again in hopes! Westeros was somewhere new and exciting! Was the girl to finally finish her training and become a real Faceless Man. She had never been anywhere but Braavos; atleast from any of the memories she had. This was her chance to prove she was ready to become a full Faceless Man.  
The girl’s expression never changed, no matter how she was feeling inside. “And what will this boy do in Westeros?” she asked in a flat tone.  
“The boy will bring the gift of death to a young lording in Duskendale.” The girl nodded, but this name clicked something inside her head, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. While she was thinking about how she knew the name of this Duskendale place somewhere lost in her brain the man then said, “The boy will be caught in the act and not bring the gift.” The girl was knocked out of her thoughts and looked at the man before her without expression, but she was very confused. Her job is to bring the gift of death to who the Many Faced God allows, but she is to try and fail?  
“Why must this boy fail?” The girl asked and the man smiled slightly.  
“The boy will fail, because this lording is not the one the Many face Gods say must die, but this will get the boy to where he must go.”  
The man told the girl what she must do and how and she just listened and waited. The girl’s mind was racing in excitement as the man spoke to her of the journey. The first job the girl gets and it was more than the girl could ever ask for.

The ship rocked back and forth under the young boy’s feet, but he kept his footing firm and solid, even though he had never been on a ship in this strong of currents. They had been out to sea for many weeks now and the boy was use to rocking now. But the boy had much training and was always sure footed anyway, but it still had taken some getting used to. He had been on river boats, and small merchant ships, but this was a real ship and in the middle of the sea. Even though he had never remembered being on this type of ship before, it all felt familiar, but of course the boy had some point he must have been on some kind of ship to come to Braavos all those years ago. But also there was a deep terror that knotted up inside his chest, and the boy was never afraid! Something about being in the middle of so much water with no land in sight made the boy want to scream in terror, but he never let it show ever!  
“Boy!” a big burly man with long oily black hair that hung past his shoulders and a beard to match, shouted at the him from across the deck. “Get up in the Crows Nest and keep a look out! We should be seeing Westeros any time now!”  
The boy named Stan had bright green hair of a Tyroshi, and was a wiry young lad of his teen years. Stan had light brown color to his skin and bright green eyes to match his hair, and looked to be about fourteen. Stan had found the ship in need of a boy to mop and clean up the decks after their last boy had fallen over board and drowned during a big storm. It took only a few days for them find out his great skill for climbing and loved using him to climb up to the Crow’s nest to keep look out. Stan was light and of average height, quick and nimble made him a great climber. Stan loved heights and didn’t mind how high up the Crow’s Nest was, even with the rocking of the ship Stan never even came close to falling. Stan never fell when he climbed anything! But in the Crows Nest watching the strong waves crash against the side of the fragile looking wooden sides of the ship, it made Stan want to sick up in terror. But he climbed up every time without complaint because he had to. Without showing fear the boy silently nodded and climbed quickly up to the small wooden bucket shaped lookout spot, at least forty feet in the air. The boy climbed in to the Crow’s nest and looked out far across the large span of ocean, seeing nothing but water; it made his head feel dizzy and hurt.  
“Nothing yet captain!” Stan shouted down to him, with his hand cupped around his mouth so the captain could hear.  
“Stay up their boy and tell me when you do!” The captain shouted back. Stan looked around, squinting hard to see if he could see any sign of land, but only saw water. The waves made a loud crash against the ship and Stan felt dizzy and sick. Even though Stan was no one and was never that girl half dead on the dock so many years ago, he never could get over whatever fear stayed locked up inside of him, even though he had no memory of the wreck.   
Everyone on the crew were nice enough to Stan, even the captain, but he so badly wanted off the ship because of the horrible subconscious memories. There were times on the ship the boy had forgotten about all this water under him. The crew had taught him how to tie knots, and a hard strategy game with stones. Stan had picked it up the game quickly and after the first two weeks most of the crew refused to play with him because he always won. The crew let the boy drink with them and for the first time the boy had gotten drunk and sang dirty, inappropriate songs to make any fancy lady faint.  
One of the guys on the ship was a young man, with a handsome sharp face, with a long dark brown mustache that curved down to connect to a small patch of dark brown hair on his chin. The man held himself up tall and had the attitude of what the boy thought most princes would have. He carried a beautiful golden lute that he used to played songs to the crew and had a wonderful voice that would make most ladies knees buckle. But Stan was a boy, not a girl anymore and had no time to think about men and knees buckling. The man had named himself, ‘Aldwin the bard of legends’. Stan was sure Aldwin was no legend, but he was kind and funny and a great singer. Aldwin had taken a liking to Stan the moment he laid eyes on him when they had picked the bard up in Pentos on their way to Blackwater Bay. Aldwin had tired of Pentos apparently and wanted to travel to Westeros to sing for lords and maybe even the king. Stan’s bright green hair and eyes to match had attracted Aldwin’s attention and he taught the boy how to play the lute. Aldwin thought his colorful appearance would make for a very entertaining bard like him. Stan learned he loved to sing and had a decent enough voice. Aldwin told Stan one day that, “You have a very high voice, almost a girl’s, but very lovely”. Stan didn’t sing much after that, but in private between the barrels of pickled foods. He would sing the songs he learned from Aldwin to himself. The boy did have a soft, almost female voice, but that was because he could only do so much about that when he changed his face, and everything about him was a boy, but inside he was still a girl.  
Stan shook off the sickness and the thoughts from his mind and ran fingers through his short chopped green hair trying to get himself back to what he was doing. ‘This is not how a Faceless Man acts!’ he thought to himself angrily. He looked out again to the ocean and to the left, that is when he saw a tiny speck of something far in the distance.  
“LAND!!!” Stan shouted as loudly as he could down to the deck and pointed in the direction he was looking. The captain he could see whipped his head to look up at him for a second before he shouted at the crew below and the ship slowly turned slightly in direction towards where the boy was pointing. Excitement welded up inside the boy that this journey on the ship would be over! Stan would miss the crew and Aldwin, but it was time for his real journey and duty to begin.  
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As the crew walked down the gangway carrying barrels of supplies needing to be refilled in Duskendale, and goods that would hopefully be traded there, Stan quickly and silently slipped away. He had on a light brown pack across his right shoulder with the little supplies he needed to get by and had an old fishermen’s knife tucked away into his belt and hidden by his shirt. Inside the pack was mainly food he had snuck from the supplies for the journey and some coins he had earned on the ship hidden away in a secret pouch. The crew and captain would soon forget about young boy Stan who came from Braavos and slid away silently without a word to anyone in Duskendale. Soon Stan would need to be someone else and continue with a plan that would get him where he really needed to go many many many leagues from here.   
Stan continued over the rocky shore, if you could call it a shore. Most of the shore was just large boulders and no sand. Duskendale was a large town with large hard walls around the town, and castle. Stan had learned that Duskendale was a large port town where merchants and ships came all around to trade. The castle here was held by House Rykker and he had learned many names of the lords and ladies of the house that’s sigil was two crossed black warhammers. But the most important information Stan had learned was of the children. The youngest of Sir Renfred Rykker’s children, Lelaine Rykker, to be exact. Lelaine was only twelve years of age and sweet young child that loved ponies and pretty dolls. That was Stan’s “target” for his mission. The “target” he was supposed to fail at killing and even though Stan wasn’t suppose to bring the gift to the child he was glad about it. Stan had given to the gift of the Many Faced God many of times and to a varying range of ages, but he could never get past having to give it to the young ones. He himself had almost died at only ten years when he was the young girl many years ago and he felt like maybe that is where his dislike of killing children came from, but he did his duty every time without complaint and without fail. Stan never failed, until now technically.  
Stan curved away from the dirt road up the rocky cliffs from the port leading the Duskendale and went around to go around the wall to the other side of the town. He did not want to take the path to the wall from the port because then the crew would notice him easier, but would enter the back gate. It took a good half an hour to walk around the wall and to the back, but even over the rocky cliffs and the strong winds pushing against him, he wasn’t even winded by the time he reached the back gate. There was a line of traders and travelers waiting to go through the gateway and two guards on either side of the gateway watching people enter. It was a steady flowing crowd moving into the town, and Stan quickly made his way into the middle of the crowd with complaints and angry glares from people he cut off, but no one stopped him. Stan reached into his bag as he was pushed along with the crowd and pulled out a long light brown cloak and wrapped it around himself tying it off around his neck and pulling up the hood to cover his face from the crowd. The guards didn’t pay an attention to the boy among many boys entering the town.  
Inside the walls the houses with spaced nicely apart for wagons and carts to be able to move around but it still felt so congested to Stan. The people walked the streets bumping into each other with glares at each other and wagons or horses almost ran over people. Stan wasn’t use to so many people inside such big looming walls. Stan was use to the tall commanding towers of the Black and White Temple in Braavos but Braavos was so free and spacious, this was crowded and busy and the towers were cruel looking and taller than even the Temple’s. Stan didn’t mind the crowds though and it took everything in him not to stare openly at all the large towers of the Duskendale castle. How in the world was Stan suppose to inside those walls to find Lelaine?  
Stan was making his way through the market place where people were selling goods, and food, shouting about prices and how they were the best around. Stan moved from stand to stand making appearance of looking at the goods with interest before moving on, but slowly his pockets began to bulge. Stan had been one of the best pick pockets in the Black and White Temple. He was only suppose to use the skill for need, but sometimes Stan couldn’t help himself and those fingers itched for more.  
Stan moved off down an alleyway after the fifth stand he had looked at that was selling rings and bracelets of all kinds, to silver plates and glass goblets. The alleyway was quiet and shadowed by the buildings around it. He slide down behind a box that had looked to be left by someone because it was broken and useless, but still held it’s shape as best it could. He began emptying his pockets of an apple, and half a loaf of bread, and a plum which was Stan’s favorite. The last thing he pulled out of his pockets was a necklace with a gold chain and a pendant that shined of bright red in the shape of teardrop that Stan just couldn’t walk away from. Stan took a bite out the plum letting the juices run down his chin for a minute before he wiped them away with his sleeve and held the necklace up to the sun letting it shine. Red was always the girl’s favorite color and Stan knew she would love the necklace when the girl could finally be the girl again, if she was ever able to be the girl again.   
Finishing up the plum and tossing the pit off down the alleyway, Stan shoved everything into his bag with the other supplies and the small hidden pouch where his coins hide. He pushed up and was about to head on to the castle to figure his way in without notice, when a loud shuffling was heard deeper in the shadows of the alleyway. Stan stopped but showed no signs that he heard the noise, even though you would have to be deaf not to. Most people would have thought it a bird or cat moving around, but Stan knew the sound of someone trying to sneak badly. Stan pretended to be adjusting his clothing and pack on his shoulder, and to brush off imaginary dirty from the alleyway floor from his clothing. He felt theperson coming closer behind him and heard their feet shifting on the cobble stone road.   
Before the person could slip the old rusty, chipped knife into his back, Stan quickly side stepped and grabbed the man’s deep grey dirty hands and twisted the knife out of his hands. The knife fell to the ground with a clank and the boy, not a man like Stan had thought in front of him had the look of surprise and horror on his face. The boy squealed like a pig about to be slaughtered, as Stan twisted his wrist until he heard a sickly snap of bone breaking. Before the boy could make any more noise Stan pulled him close and clamped his hand over the boy’s mouth. The boy was just about Stan’s height and weight and reddish blonde short cropped hair that looked like someone just took a knife and started sawing away at it.  
“Boy don’t cry.” Stan said quietly into the boy’s ear as tears streamed down the boy’s face leaving dirty streaks down the boy’s dirt covered face. “You have been given to me to receive the gift of death from the Many Faced God. This is your blessing, and I thank you for your service.” The boy fought against Stan’s wiry arms that seemed so weak compared to how strongly he pinned the boy to him. He fought against his hand against his mouth and when Stan let him go of the boy, he didn’t even have time to run before Stan grabbed the knife in his belt hidden under his shirt and cloak. With one swift movement Stan stabbed deep up into the boy’s gut. The boy struggled for a little while longer against Stan’s knife, but it slowly got weaker and weaker as the boy lost blood that flowed to the ground by his feet. Stan caught the dying boy before he could fall to the ground and lowered him slowly and softly to the ground. Stan wiped the blood from the old fisherman’s knife he got from the Second Mate of the Ship on his way here, on the boy’s dirty ragged shirt. Stan then threw the knife away down the alleyway and looked at the slowly dying boy on the ground. He was a orphaned beggar for sure, and probably no one here would miss him. The boy had a plain dirty face and looked to be about Stan’s age if not a little old more of the girl’s old age; with nothing special about him that would set him apart from anyone else, besides maybe his hair color. Not too many people Stan had seen here had reddish hair of any kind, but that would be fine and not too much to stand out. The boy probably had seen the expensive stolen necklace in Stan’s hands when he was looking at it, which would have been a mistake on Stan’s part if it had not been all part of the Many Faced God’s plans for Stan. Stan smiled down at the young boy laying there dead in his own blood, and bent down over him laying a light kiss on the boy’s dirty forehead.   
“Rest now boy, for you have received the gift of death from the Many faced God and you will help me along my path to bring the gift to another.” Stan gently laid two fingers on the boy’s eye lids and shut them. The Many Faced God had brought him the perfect face to get into the castle!  
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